


a boy from the middle of nowhere

by angelheartbeat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Confusion, Jake doesn't even know what glass is, Jake had no exposure to technology, Jake is kinda feral, Learning about society, Let him live, M/M, Or People, Slow Build, Slow Burn, There's still a few magic thingies like lusii on the island and flashstepping but thats it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: Somewhere, deep in the Pacific, there is an island, shaped like a crescent moon, with a temple and a volcano and a jungle.Somewhere, deep in the jungle on that island, there is a boy who has been alone for a very long time.This boy is named Jake English.





	1. deep in the pacific - prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Grandma English died when Jake was six and only left him with a few decades worth of rations and clothes and ammunition, but no technology, and thus no connection to any other humans. He grew up sort of feral because of this, at least until his island was discovered by a company named Crocker Corp and he was "rescued" from the only place he'd ever known.
> 
> Kinda complicated AU, but I love Jake, so I hope y'all like it!

Somewhere, deep in the Pacific, there is an uncharted island shaped like a crescent moon.

It is a beautiful place, surrounded by clear cerulean waters that dance with light when the sun hit them just so; the beaches are almost white and burn with stored heat. Crabs scuttle across the ivory sands, dipping in and out of the sapphire waves and leaving trails of tiny tracks in the sand, that were typically covered by the rushing tide anyway. Seaweed waves lazily in the calm blue, occasionally washing up on the pearl coasts, leaving salty green scars on the near-perfect white ground. Driftwood, too, is washed up every now and then, creating faults and cracks in the façade of perfection and tranquility that the beaches seemed to strive to get across.

Weathered, beaten rock forms a temple rising from the water, standing impossibly tall above the lapping azure. It forms a frog - an unconventional choice, but the temple has been here for so long that it seems unlikely that human hands even crafted it. It is a constant, a definite, an immoveable, unchangeable staple of the tiny island.

Further inland, rocks gather and rise to form a volcano, bubbling with magma and terror that exudes heat with a ferocity that should surely be reserved for when the volcano erupts, when it spews its rage across the patiently waiting island. For now, it stews malevolently, a constant, foreboding presence, much like the temple, but radiating with anger that the temple would never even come close to. The temple whispers promises of tranquility, of quiet, of wisdom. The volcano roars curses of destruction, of noise, of mindless anger. It swallows anything dropped into its core, feeds and digests and roars for more, but its fiery hunger will typically go unquelled. It is not alive, after all.

At the great base of the volcano is a forest, thick with humidity and foliage, almost impenetrable to all those but who know it well. Leaves hang heavy and thick, bigger than leaves have any right to be, and the trees are so densely packed they can hardly be traversed without many a ripped garment or scraped knee. Vines lay thick on the ground, ripe for the tripping. When it rains, the volcano hisses but the forest thrives, remaining damp and cold for days, almost weeks afterwards.

Somewhere, deep in this supposedly uninhabitable forest, in a dilapidated tower surrounded by monsters and pumpkins, there is a boy.

This boy has been alone for a very long time, longer than boys should ever be left alone, but he has hardly ever known another life. He has been alone for over a decade - twelve and a half years, to be exact, given that he is eighteen and his only human companion died when he was almost exactly six. He does not know he is eighteen. He gave up counting after there was no more silver hair to tickle his face as strong arms wrapped around him to sooth his crying. Once those strong arms were gone, and wrinkled thumbs no longer wiped the tears from his eyes, he had to learn to wipe his own tears, and that took a long time, and a lot of pain.

So he stopped counting the years. And after an even longer while, he stopped counting the months, and soon the weeks, and after a while he gave up on counting the days and just went by what little sunlight filtered through the emerald canopies above his head.

When his grandmother was around, the boy laughed and spoke with abandon, spoke like an old man and made his grandma giggle, because not even she used such old-fashioned terms, and really now, where had he learnt it? The boy didnt know. All he knew was that his mannerisms made his grandma chuckle, and that was enough for him.

She taught him how to shoot guns when he was four, and he was an awful shot, but she instilled hope in him that he would improve and he kept shooting. By the time he was five, he could hit a still target. At six, he was learning how to shoot moving targets. But then, suddenly, terrifyingly, his grandmother was gone, and all stability in his young life fell apart. Because the monsters that his grandma often shot at when he lay awake in bed were prowling, and he was only six, and he might not know much but he knows that six is far too young for a boy to be alone.

That night, he dragged his grandmother's body to a fire that he had created himself. And she would have been so proud of him for that, but she couldn't be, because she was gone, and he had nothing. Her body was freezing, and her face was blank, and the boy had wept openly as the fire crept over her, licking at her body and consuming it until the only person he had ever known was black ashes, and he spent the rest of the night trembling and alone. Normally, his grandma would run her shaky hands through his hair, and croon soft lullabies, and tell him endless stories, and he would drift off, illuminated by a fire not carrying the ashes of his grandmother, that he hadn't made with two sticks and far too many tears.

She had left him with next to nothing in the long run, because she had never intended to die before she could teach him all she knew, but no one can avoid being murdered, not even a woman as great as she. The only things the boy uncovered in his crumbling home were what seemed like endless rations, clothes that grew to a size he was sure he would never achieve, and boxes upon boxes of ammunition for every one of her guns - but they were no longer her guns, they were his guns, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to learn how to use every last one of them.

So a six year old with dark hair and determined green eyes taught himself to shoot a rifle, a blunderbuss, a shotgun, a musket, any kind of gun she had left behind. His favourites were always the twin pistols, but it felt like an insult to his grandmother's memory, because she had always favoured the rifle. But he needed something he could rely on to destroy the milky-white monsters outside that seemed hellbent on making him meet the same fate as his grandmother.

The boy didn't know what, really, he was meant to do without his grandmother to guide him, because for six years he had followed her teachings. One thing he was certain of, though, was that there was no longer anyone to laugh at the way he spoke, so before long he just... stopped. It was unnecessary. If it wasn't for the screams that erupted his throat when he got a little to close to seeing his grandmother again he'd think his vocal cards had rusted over. Perhaps they had.

In his head, he constructed his own words for things his grandmother had never taught him, like his own anatomy. And slowly, slowly but surely, he forgot his grandma's words, forgot the intonations she had when she told her stories, and the worst part was he hardly noticed. He was too focused on trying to stay alive himself.

By the time he was ten, the boy could shoot anything and everything with his pistols, he was sure of it. In an effort to keep his mind alive, as well, he would create stories where he was a great hero, an adventurer, but it was hard to be an adventurer when you had nothing to adventure. He had explored every inch of his island by the time he was eight, including the temple, and there were only so many times you could pretend you had uncovered a new land that you had really seen a thousand times.

When he was eleven, the boys eyesight began to deteriorate. He could no longer aim so far away and so perfectly, and the jungle almost blurred into a green mess unless he squinted, so he squinted a lot. If he didn't he'd constantly lose his way. He remembered his grandma wearing what he thought he remembered being called glasses, but he didn't know whether they cured the blurriness, because she had never told him. It had never mattered. If there were other creatures like him, he wondered if they all suffered the same blurriness he did.

The boy had no idea if there were other creatures like him, because the only one he had ever known was his grandmother, and she was dead, and fading from his memory faster than he'd like to admit - but only to himself, because who else was there to admit it to? The ivory creatures were nothing like him, that much he was certain. They spurted rainbow blood when he shot them, and he was sure that his blood only came in one colour.

Over time, even the name for his own species faded from his memory. He only knew himself, and terror had been set into his mind since he was six, so who was he to remember anything?

He often wished he could talk to other people like him, people with coloured skin and hair, who wore clothes and actually spoke, because then he could speak back and know that his vocal cords hadn't snapped from disuse. The closest he had to a companion were the tiny fairy bulls he had named Tinkerbulls when he had forgotten their real names, because it sounded pretty, and what other reasoning could he have? Things didnt have meanings to the boy. He hardly even knew what an adventurer was, he just had a vague memory of telling his grandma he wanted to be one, back when she was still alive, and she had laughed and told him he could be anything he wanted to be.

By the time he was fifteen, the boy had all but forgotten everything, and he was growing into the clothes he had considered an insurmountable size back when he was six. His rations were dwindling alarmingly, and something instinctual told him he should eat less of them when he was bored and wishing people like him existed, so of course he listened, because on an island full of murderous beasts and potential deaths, he had learnt to trust his instincts. 

His life was gut-wrenchingly lonely - every time he tried to comfort himself with Tinkerbulls he remembered that he was alone, that Grandma was gone, and he would never be an adventurer.

He all but forgot how to smile for a while.

But after a long time of being stuck in a pit of darkness, he wanted to feel a little more like the optimistic five year old he had been, when Grandma was alive and life was good. So he taught himself to smile again, and taught himself that it was good, and poked at the little dip that appeared in his cheek when he smiled, and remembered Grandma calling it a dimple, and it meant he was happy. But that couldn't be right, because it appeared when he cried, too, and he most certainly wasn't happy then. 

He tried to tell himself he could be an adventurer again, and when he was sixteen he tried, he really tried, but he usually ended up crying. He had nothing to fight for. He didn't even know if he was the last creature like him left alive. He didn't even know if he wanted other creatures like him. He was scared and lonely, and only smiled because it helped him grip onto the last remaining memories of grandma, of normalcy, of not being so goddamn scared all the time.

Sometimes the boy considers falling into the roaring volcano, burning to ash like his grandmother did, but he always steps down from the edge, instead of over it. Grandma wouldn't want that. She would want him to be her "brave little swashbuckling adventurer" and not throw himself into heat that singed his hair even just standing above it.

The boy was a master at nearly all kinds of guns by the time he was seventeen, even if he was aiming into a blur of green. All kinds of guns but one.

The rifle. His grandmother's favourite.

Every time he loaded up the rifle and aimed it, his shoulders started shaking and his hands started trembling and he could never hold it for long, because it was a terrifying reminder of the only other creature like him that he had ever known, and he didn't know if he ever wanted someone else like him. Shooting the pearly monsters and watching colorful blood stain the jade forest felt like company enough. Besides, how could he possibly talk to them again, when the last time he had talked had been to his grandma, had been when he felt loved and safe. 

So the rifle stayed in a place of honour on the wall, and his pistols were kept in use, and he did his best to keep himself busy so he couldn't remember that he was alone.

There were only a few things that this boy knew for certain, when he was eighteen but didn't know it and absolutely, terrifyingly alone. He had remembered the first, because it helped him retain a shred of humanity and memory of when his world wasn't crushingly lonely, and he had learnt the second, because he had to, because it was just a fact of life, and he couldn't fight it, no matter how hard he tried.

His name was Jake English, and the world was terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this fic probably isnt going to be super accurate to Jake's personality, but he grew up in slightly different circumstances, so I guess that sort of fueled the personality changes
> 
> I hope this was a good prologue! Planning on having much longer actual chapters, but we'll see :^)


	2. an island, discovered - chapter one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note - Jake has forgotten most words due to not needing them for twelve years so the description in here definitely isn't from his own brain, haha  
> He also has his own names for lots of things, hence the Rurs, which will be probably explored in more depth in the future  
> He only remembers basic things like greetings, goodbyes, Grandma, his own name, guns, things he knows well, and his own names for things, otherwise hes just sort of blanked out most words, because he never needed them  
> He might remember them, might not, depends where this story goes
> 
> TL;DR Jake has forgotten most words besides basic stuff, description aint from him, probably explored more in-depth later

The dull thud and crunch of rapid football echoed through the forest as an eighteen-year-old boy fled from his attacker, a rather large white feline dead set on hunting down this pesky little adventurer. Jake named this breed of monster Rurs when he first discovered them, because that's the noise they make as they chase him, albeit much more threatening.

The rur in question thudded through the forest after him, dual mouths both curled into snarls, as Jake ran as fast as his legs could carry him, because of course his pistols just had to run out of ammo just as he angered one of the biggest monsters he had seen in a while. 

His breath came hard and heavy, and willing himself to move faster, Jake took a leap of faith - literally - and sprinted off to the side of his original path, finding a small muddy ledge and making a split second decision. The milky white monster was gaining on him, and with a deep breath he barely managed to take, he kicked off the ledge, and in one somewhat smooth movement he was flipping backwards, flying through the air, only to land exactly where he had hoped, ie on the monsters back.

She roared in discontent as Jake let out a rare whoop of joy that his maneuver was successful, before returning his attention to trying to think of a way to take her down. It was made marginally harder by her furious bucking and twisting in an attempt to throw the unwanted presence on her back off, and Jake barely managed to remain lodged there by pure willpower.

Scanning the area desperately for a solution, Jake spotted something that he could potentially use to at least escape, and in a fruitless attempt to spur his unwilling ride towards it, he leaned forward and smacked the rippling feline muscles underneath her ivory skin, which did the exact opposite of spurring her towards the easily accessible vine Jake had spotted. It instead enraged her even further, inciting her to roar loudly enough to shake the ground and leap upwards, the sheer force of her sudden anger enough to throw Jake off her back violently. He landed on the ground with a sickening crack of branches underneath him, not to mention a sharp, searing pain across his entire body, plus where his head had made unwelcome and violent contact with a tree trunk.

Attempting to gather his wits, Jake squinted through eternally-blurry eyes - currently worsened by the throbbing pain pulsing from the back of his skull - only to see the lioness advancing towards him, pearly face clearly arranged into pure rage, directed towards the small non-monstrous figure lying in pain at the bottom of a tree. Jake's breathing was shaky and shallow, but his eyes darted to and fro, trying to find an opening, and in just a few seconds he had spotted one. Unfortunately, in those few seconds the rur had closed in on her prey, and placed one white paw on his chest, growling low in her chest. He was trapped.

Summoning all his strength, Jake pushed her paw off him and desperately rolled out of where he had been cornered, banking on her surprise that he had escaped in order to actually do so - and it seemed like luck would be a lady tonight, because she stood in blinking shock before letting out a bone-rattling roar and starting up on her hunt again, giving Jake the advantage. A short advantage, but an advantage nonetheless.

Luckily for the adventurer, his broken-down tower was nearby, and something about his home seemed to unnerve the monsters enough to never come  _too_ close, so if he could manage to get in there he could pick up some more ammo and shake off this assailant for good. With a plan in mind, he twisted his path so he was heading to his home, hyperaware of the giant monstrous cat chasing him with every thudding step she took.

After what seemed like years, he stumbled out of the thick foliage, only to trip over the thick vines laying on the ground, and almost fall. He caught himself just as his nose was about to make contact with the ground and barely managed to right himself, chancing a glance backwards to see if he had managed to throw off the feline yet. He had not, and swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, he bolted towards the tower, shooting into his room and rummaging through his things as fast as he could possibly manage, until his hands closed around a box of ammunition for his pistols.

Making a low, frantic buzzing noise in the back of his throat, Jake loaded up his pistols and barrelled outside again, skidding to a stop when he saw the monster prowling a little too close for comfort. With his heart in his throat, he squinted, lifted his gun, aimed, and shot the rurs head directly.

The howl she let out would have been heartbreaking had Jake not just been running for his life from her, so he could only watch with a sense of detached guilt as olive blood oozed out of her head and stained nearby pumpkins, as her body swayed and eventually collapsed on its side, never to rise again. Jake didnt feel too bad. This sort of thing was routine. He had been doing it for a long time.

Adrenaline didnt seem to agree, coursing rather rudely through his veins despite his current attacker having been felled. He took a moment to calm himself, tuck his guns back into their holsters, and return his heart rate to something even resembling normal, before he set about removing the green-stained body from his front garden.

Once the body had been dealt with, the forest seemed suddenly empty and quiet, and Jake sighed with discontent. Not another empty spell. They came about every now and then, pulled his mood into melancholic and depressive, typically coming just after something exciting happened, as though quiet life on the island was never enough. The only way Jake knew how to deal with it was to leave the forest for a bit, and there were only three places on the island you could go that weren't forest - the volcano, the temple, or the beach.

Armed with his trusty guns as always, Jake decided on the beach, and set off in the direction of it, senses constantly on high alert for any rustling around him. At the slightest noise he would whip around, guns held high, and scan the area.

One thing he was eternally grateful for, that he mused on as he trekked through the green, was that the monsters on his island were in such high contrast to the general surroundings - green and brown forest versus blindingly white monsters. His eyesight had been steadily worsening for god knew how long, and it took a god awful amount of squinting and moving about to get a clear image at all, and even then he wasn't sure of a lot of things. He was just lucky he knew this forest like the back of his hand and could traverse it in his sleep, or he'd be constantly lost and at the mercy of hungry monsters. Well, he always assumed they were hungry. He couldn't imagine another incentive they'd have for trying to kill him so often.

Eventually he broke free of the damp, humid forest and found himself on the beach, face cracking into a broad grin as he surveyed it. Baby blue waves lapped at the burning sand, and with a contented smile Jake strode forward and flopped onto his back, allowing the water to wash over his shoes and dampen his socks. Heat beat down on him, and he knew that monsters never came out there, so for once he felt perfectly safe. The beach and his home were perhaps the only places where he could truly let his guard down.

Sighing happily, Jake closed his eyes and let the heat and waves wash over him and carry him into a quiet sleep.

* * *

Crocker Corp was confused.

There had been a blip in their scans of the Pacific ocean - a way to extend their rule over even places without humans - and the only logical conclusion was that it happened to be an abandoned island.

And thus a helicopter was sent out to explore the island, carrying upon it three eighteen-year-olds, not to mention several businessmen and bodyguards. A young lady named Jane Crocker, heir to the Crocker Corp empire and a hugely important figure, Crocker Corps top hacker - not that they wanted to admit it - and Jane's best friend, Roxy Lalonde, and a perfect engineer, Dirk Strider. They had begged and pleaded and almost resorted to blackmail to be allowed to go on this expedition, and they were loving every minute of the helicopter ride across the ocean. Even Dirk had shown a few grins, and he wasn't one for outward positive emotions.

Endless rolling blue stretched out beneath them, miles upon miles of Prussian blue still, disturbed only by the occasional presence of a flying fish, or a few dolphins. At one point, Roxy swore she saw a whale, but no one really believed her. 

The trip had stretched on seemingly endlessly, and all three teens were desperate to stretch their legs and explore this little uninhabited island. So, naturally, when the first hazy green blur became visible, all three were boundlessly excited, but of course showing it in their own ways, Roxy perhaps the most recognisable as excited to those who didnt know them.

The forest had shaken as the helicopter came in to land, blades spinning furiously but slowing to a stop, and as soon as it was given the okay all three young adults were stepping onto the burning sand, stretching and high-fiving and laughing.

And then stopping, and staring, because in front of them there was a boy, and there wasn't supposed to be anyone on this island, let alone a boy who looked like he could be around their age. He looked half-asleep, like he had been forced out of a deep sleep all of a sudden, and he had stared at them all with wide green eyes before bolting into the forest with a speed that none of them really thought was possible without flashstepping.

"Did that just...?" Jane asked, staring at the footprints the boy had left behind. Roxy and Dirk didnt reply, too busy staring after him as well. He had looked young, certainly around their age, and he had seemed to have guns strapped to his hips, and Jane wondered just who else could be lurking in the forest.

Nevertheless, the small group, complete with Crocker Corp employees, set off on a trek to survey and record the island, presumably to turn it into a Crocker Corp resort or some such. The teens didnt mention the boy to the other employees; the employees didnt see him, nor did they need to know. Jane put the boy down to sleep deprivation and moved on. Surely no one could survive in this environment. 

The thoughts that no one could survive in this environment only solidified as they batted at giant green leaves, and at one point an absolutely huge, pure white spider had attempted to hunt and eat them, only to be shot down by one of the bodyguards, spurting cerulean blood that made them all shudder. No, surely, no one could survive fighting monsters like this every day. The forest was too dense, for another thing. They could hardly move without tripping over roots or vines, and it was eerily quiet when there wasn't roars and caws echoing.

But there was no denying the tiny, broken-down tower they had come across, nor the pumpkins that looked much too plentiful to be natural, or the nearby (deteriorating) pile of monster corpses that was stained with varying shades of blood and all seemed to be sporting clean gunshot wounds. Someone must have been here. And they were determined to find out who, and bring whoever it is back to the mainland, because no one could survive out here.

They all felt a little like they were intruding as they stepped into the dilapidated tower (only the three teens, as the businessmen had retreated to the helicopter at the notion of work, and the bodyguards had dispersed to keep the monsters away), and all of them recoiled at the wall with countless guns hung from it. All the guns were rather dusty, save for one, a single rifle hung in the direct middle of the wall. Boxes of what appeared to be food, clothes and ammunition were littered around the room, and a tiny bed with a thin blanket covering it was pushed into a corner. It was clear someone lived here. It just wasn't clear who.

Dirk reached out to touch the unnervingly clean rifle, and there was a strangled cry from behind them, prompting all three to whip around violently, only to see the boy from earlier, fists curling angrily and face set into a snarl that somehow looked angry, upset and terrified, all at once.

This time, they managed to get a good look at him. He was wearing a black tank top and cargo shorts, a gun belt hanging loosely on his hips and what appeared to be studded boots on his feet. He squinted like he needed glasses, that much was obvious even as he glared, and was he growling? Yes, that definitely sounded like growling. Black hair was longish and roughly cut, curling at the ends but clearly smoothed out of his face often enough to defy gravity naturally. Buck teeth poked out of his twisted scowl, and if they hadn't been so terrified, they'd have all found him rather attractive. 

Dirk had whipped his hand away from the rifle, and he seemed to relax a little, but remained tensed up, and the three friends looked at each other and mutually decided  _no sudden movements._

"Hey, we're not gonna hurt you," reassured Dirk, taking a step towards the stranger with his hands up in a gesture that explained he wasn't armed, but the boy didnt seem convinced, skittering backwards and grabbing for his gun. Both girls inhaled sharply when the boy lifted his pistol with trembling hands, aiming it directly at Dirk's head, but Dirk seemed unfazed. Perhaps that was because of the amount the boy was shaking, and if he wasn't mistaken, tears were collecting in those wide green eyes.

The boy pointed at the door, making a strangulated, almost chirping noise, and the teens didnt wait to be told twice, scrambling out of the home covered in guns as fast as was humanly possible. No one wants to be in a room with an wild jungle boy holding a probably loaded pistol and a wall of guns. Let alone when he's angry. 

If they had looked back, they might have seen the boy drop his gun with a clatter and his head into his hands, before sitting down hard on his bed and crying quietly.

* * *

The bodyguards had suspicions about inhabitants of the island, they said when Dirk and Roxy and Jane caught up to them, and they didnt want to leave until they had caught them and removed them from the island, unless there was a lot, in which case they'd probably be allowed to live on. 

The teens looked at each other and said nothing. Something told them they shouldn't explicitly tell them about the boy with the guns.

Turned out it wouldn't have mattered. They were forced to trail after the bodyguards for what felt like hours, until eventually they stumbled upon the very same place they had rushed out of in fear just a short while before, and the bodyguards had laughed and pointed and told them they knew it.

When they peered inside, there was the boy, standing there and running his hand over the perfectly clean rifle, swiping at any marks his fingers made with a small, dirtied cloth. No one made a sound. He didnt turn around, but he did continue to polish the barrel of the gun with the cloth, humming quietly but seemingly on edge. He seemed normal, even if the guns still strapped to his hips were mildly alarming. And his shoulders were still shaking slightly, and his fingers trembled with every swipe of the cloth, clear pointers that he was still terrified. The teens looked at each other yet again and sighed. Something felt very wrong about taking this boy away from a place he very clearly loved.

Nevertheless, they couldn't stop the bodyguards from what they had been ordered to do had there been any inhabitants, and the men - much larger than the poor island boy - charged forwards, catching him half by surprise. 

A small scuffle ensued, three teens watching in horror as men fought a boy half the size of them, tossing his pistols across the room so he couldn't get to them and landing punches with sickening thwacks that were leaving the boy bleeding and bruised. His strength was draining the longer the men fought him, and it was clear that his eyesight had much to be desired, given how his punches were solid but often missed or hit the wrong target.

After what felt like a few more hours, the boy stopped, swaying on his feet, and the bodyguards stepped away, closer to where the teens were watching in unrestrained horror. As they watched, the stranger opened his mouth, as if in surprise, and then thudded to the ground, unconscious.

Jane berated the leader of the bodyguards for unsafe procedure, as he attempted to argue his case. Dirk and Roxy joined in before long, and all were so caught up in calling out the leader on his bullshit that they didnt notice the remaining bodyguards using thin rope to bind the boys wrists and ankles and lift him up. When they noticed, of course, it only added more fuel to the fire and served to make them angrier about the situation.

Despite all their protests and angry yelling, the bodyguards had their way, on the premise that they were only teens and didnt know what they were talking about, even with the irony that the boy they were kidnapping was just a teen as well.

"He's clearly just a teenager!" Roxy complained as they trailed through the forest, said kid held bridal style in the nicest of the bodyguards arms. Dirk and Jane murmured their agreement and all three continued to complain as they dragged their feet all the way back to the helicopter.

It was a surprise when the bodyguards loaded the boy up into the helicopter and immediately told the teens to get in as well. They had expected further exploration, further kidnappings, probably, but the bodyguards told them firmly that more teams would be coming to do checks on the island and no, they would not be allowed to go, no matter their status, or how much they begged. It was all they could do to keep in their rage as they quietly seethed in their seats, the boy on all of their minds. They were sort of glad he was staying unconscious for the whole helicopter ride. If he had spent his whole life on the island, waking up on a giant metal thing in the air would probably come as a nasty shock.

So there was nothing they could do as they landed, followed a few procedures, and watched as the boy was placed in an empty room, a window between it and another room. After a lot of cajoling, begging, pleading and a few tears, the teens had been allowed to sit in the other room, watching the boy with interest and guilt as he lay there, passed out and tied up like an animal.

All they could do was wait for him to wake up, so thats exactly what they were going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was,, intended to be longer but whoops
> 
> I hope youre all enjoying it so far! Next chapter will have more dialogue for sure.


	3. a boy, terrified - chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry this took so long to update!!! I've had a lot of stuff to work on and a lot of fics are falling to the back burner (I'll try my best to not let that happen to this one!)

When Jake awoke, he was in a completely new, terrifying room, unlike anything he had ever seen on the island.

The walls were white, and bare, but one wall didn't appear to be there at all. Jake couldn't see anything through it from his angle on the floor, and with a scared yelp he tried to spring up, but ended up right back on the floor. His feet appeared to be bound together, and when he checked his hands they, too, were bound. He felt his eyes narrowing. If he could just fucking see properly!

After some squirming and fiddling, he managed to undo the tight knots and slip the rope off his hands and feet, and that was when he sprung up to explore the room he was in. A low growl escaped his throat - a tactic he had picked up when he was around ten. It was a warning, and it occasionally made monsters back off, and he often resorted back to it when he was startled or terrified, and he was currently very much the latter.

He ran his fingers along the wall, and the texture was smooth, not rough like his homes walls. With a start, he remembered the nonexistent wall. Maybe an escape route?

Wheeling round, Jake saw the nonexistent wall, and more importantly he saw those people who were touching his Grandma's rifle. Fuck the escape route, revenge was in order. They fuck with Grandma's things, they fuck with Jake.

Ignoring the terror building in his stomach and throat, Jake gritted his teeth and leapt forward at the people, who looked startled at his sudden charge. He expected to pass right through and land on the one wearing dumb dark triangles - as they had been the one touching the rifle - but instead he felt his head making contact with something clear and invisible, hitting his head quite hard and flopping to the floor. The fuck was that?

Deciding to abandon the murder mission for now, Jake checked his holsters, only to find them devoid of pistols, and his terror only grew. Right. An empty room with a nonexistent wall that's actually an existent wall and three intruders behind it, and no guns.

Settling to pacing and examining the people to sate his endless curiosity about others like him - thus far, they seemed brutal and confusing - Jake began to walk up and down, taking in every little aspect of the people. These three hadn't attacked him, he was sure, because even with his hazy memory he'd have remembered it. He clearly remembered huge people attacking him, because he remembered trying to fight back and knocking out cold - hugely embarrassing - but he didn't think these three had anything to do with it.

The first human was short, and sported dark hair and teeth like his. Jake would have wondered if everyone had teeth like his if it weren't for the other two not having them. She stared back at him with intimidated blue eyes behind frames around her eyes, and Jake hoped his memory was telling him correctly that they were glasses. As he stared, she offered him a nervous smile, and he just grimaced in return, making her shrink away. She looked... squishy. And soft. Jake hoped her personality matched up to that.

The next person was slightly taller, and had bubblegum-pink hair, a shade that Jake had never seen before, so for a few moments he just stood and stared at it, open-mouthed. Her crop top exposed a smooth, tanned stomach, and bangles rode up and down her arms as she waves excitedly, a grin prominent on her face. Jake didn't think he liked her very much. She seemed too happy. And she sort of scared him. 

The third one was someone Jake had the largest vendetta against, thanks to their attempt to touch his grandma's gun and then try to calm him down, for God's sake. He had gelled back blond hair that looked impossibly neat, and his face was arranged into an emotionless mask. He was taller than Jake, and didn't flinch, even when Jake stared at him for ages. His eyes were concealed behind those ridiculous triangles, and Jake wondered what the hell they were for. Grandma had never mentioned glasses that were dark. Maybe they blocked his vision? But why the hell would those be useful? Whoever this guy was, Jake didn't like him, and tried to let him know that by growling lowly and aggressively. The other two people seemed intimidated enough, so he settled for that.

Captors sufficiently examined, Jake began pacing again, trying desperately to keep his heart rate in check and miserably failing. This was much, much worse than dealing with monsters, because at least with monsters he knew what they wanted - him dead. He had absolutely no idea what these people wanted. The thought scared him even more, and if it wasn't for his attempt to seem scary and unafraid, he'd have curled up in the corner and sobbed. They could probably see he was scared anyway - he was never any good at hiding his emotions, but then again why would he need to be? There was never anyone to hide them from. 

As he paced, swallowing hard and holding his arms close to him, crossing them over his body in an attempt to hold himself together, he spotted the one with the pink hair lean in closer to the nonexistent wall and seemingly press something, and then there was a voice booming through the room.

"Hey, kid!"

Startled by the sudden, loud and high-pitched noise, Jake stumbled and tripped, landing flat on his face. He sat up as quickly as he could and scooted backwards so his back was against the wall, looking about in fear at where the voice was coming from.

"Relax, we aren't gonna hurt you!"

Looking closely, Jake could see that the pink-haired person was moving their mouth in time with the voice, so presumably something was directing her voice into the room. He growled again, but this time it wasn't in an attempt to be intimidating, it was because  _he_ was intimidated, and he prided himself on having no fear. Usually.

The humans turned around and mumbled to each other a little, casting glances at Jake every so often, and his natural curiosity outweighed his fear for a moment, making him creep forward until his nose was pressed up against the wall that he couldn't see but was still there somehow. He knew perfectly well they could see him if they turned around, but he didnt care. Despite his attempts, though, he still couldn't hear their conversation, just muffled murmurs.

Suddenly, the one with the triangles spotted him and pointed, causing the other two to twist and walk up to him as well. Swallowing, Jake tried to keep in the terrified squeak threatening to escape him, but when the pink-haired one waved far too energetically he failed and yelped, shuffling backwards yet again.

The three exchanged glances, and the one in the middle leaned forward again, speaking, the voice booming around Jake again.

"Can you tell us your name?"

* * *

Dirk, Roxy and Jane felt guilty and a little confused. Thus far, the jungle boy had woken up, undone with ease knots that took several minutes to even tie, growled a lot, thrown himself into a glass screen, noticed his guns were missing, examined them all individually, paced and been terrified of a speaker.

They'd never known anyone who acted even anything like this. Here was a boy who most certainly must have had next to no human contact growing up, based on the way he had almost seemed to analyse them as he stared.

The question hung in the air, and all three hoped the boy knew English, and he knew how to speak, and all that. He stood on the other side of the glass, looking each of them over, eyes wide and scared. After what seemed like forever, he opened his mouth, and all three leaned in interestedly to hear his name, hear what his voice sounded like.

"Ja... Jake.... En.. glish?" he said nervously, eyes flicking between them. His voice was croaky but pleasant, and he had an accent that none of them had ever heard before, nor could they place.

Roxy smiled cheerfully and placed her finger on the button that transmitted her voice to the next room. "Jake English?" she asked, attempting to sound nonthreatening. Carefully, as though he was deliberating every move, Jake nodded jerkily, like he wasn't really sure if it was the correct action. He probably wasn't.

"Well, I'm Roxy Lalonde! I'm a hacker here at Crocker Corp - the best hacker, if I do say so myself - and I just gotta say, you are the cutest little thing I've ever seen, except for maybe Janey. Thinking about it, you two do look alike! But seriously, how is it fair that island boy gets the looks? I mean, Di-Stri aint anything to scoff at, but still-"

"Roxy, you're scaring him!" Jane hissed, gesturing towards Jake. Indeed, he had retreated against the back wall and pressed himself flat against it. Roxy imagined if he had dog ears they'd be pressed flat against his head in fear. Gently pushing her best friend away from the button, Jane leaned in to the microphone and held down the button, speaking in the softest voice she could. "Hello there. I'm Jane Crocker."

Jake seemed marginally calmed by the soothing voice rather than Roxy's high squeal, and she pouted at that realisation, but quickly cheered back up and joined Jane in gesturing Dirk over to the microphone. He sighed, raised an eyebrow and leaned in. "Dirk Strider." Short and simple.

Still pressed flat against the back wall, Jake raised a trembling hand and attempted a weak smile. "H-hello... Um.. P... Please? Don't... hurt me..." Every word seemed like an effort for him, as though he had almost forgotten how to speak English and was using hazy memories to piece together short sentences.

Roxy rushed to press the microphone again. "We aren't gonna hurt you! We promise!"

Peeling himself an inch or so away from the wall, Jake still had the look of a terrified puppy, but it was melting into curiosity now, too. "You... not?"

Smirking and elbowing Roxy away, Dirk leaned in. "If anything we're worried that you're gonna hurt us, dude. You tried to shoot me."

Jake's face set into an angry little o and Dirk pulled back, worried he had crossed some kind of line. And indeed, Jake was marching back across the room to press his nose against the glass and glare angrily at Dirk, seemingly frustrated by the glass between them. "You... Grandma's rifle!" he said huffily, and Dirk blinked, along with Roxy and Jane. Just who was Grandma?

Jane asked that very question, cocking her head curiously, and Jake's head snapped to her like she had just asked the dumbest question possible, moving along to her and pressing his nose against the glass there. Did this dude really not learn that you cant go through glass, no matter how hard you squished your nose against it? "Grandma... is Grandma!?" he said, sounding genuinely confused that someone wouldnt know who his grandma is. "She... Rifles. She was very strong. Love very much. She... She's gone now." His voice gained confidence as he talked, like he was remembering English more and more, but alongside the confidence was sadness, and Jane immediately worried she had pushed too far.

Suddenly, as if he realised something, Jake sprung back again, eyes narrowing. "Why you wanna know about Grandma?" he barked, but his oddly-accented voice shook audibly. Dirk stayed calm, depressing the button again while Roxy and Jane jumped.

"Because we're curious about the weird jungle boy who apparently doesn't know what glass is and tried to shoot someone," he said levelly, staring Jake down, even if the brunet couldn't tell because of the shades. Jake swallowed hard and looked away, and another bout of hissing broke out amongst the three friends.

"You cant just tell him shit like that!" Roxy insisted, casting a glance at Jake, who still looked scared out of his mind, except now there was anger filtering into the fear as well. "Hes scared enough as it is!"

"His grandma clearly meant a lot to him," Jane chipped in. "I wonder if she was the only human on the island besides Jake - and just how long has she been gone for? This is quite the mystery, you know."

"Don't treat Jakey like one of your detective cases, Janey."

"I'm not! I'm simply curious!"

"Both of you shut it. This kid is weird as hell." Dirk said, overruling the bickering breaking out, and Roxy shot him a look.

"He is not! Hes just isolated and confused!"

"Rox, thats the kind of thing you say about stray cats."

"He is like a stray cat, Di-Stri! Just look at him!"

They all looked at Jake, who had been staring at them and now squeaked from the sudden attention, reeling backwards and squinting again.

"Doesn't mean you can treat him like one."

"Do you two think we should fetch my father or someone and tell them that hes awake and talking? They might like to know."

Both Dirk and Roxy considered Jane's proposal for a while. They knew eventually they'd have to report that Jake was awake, but for now it seemed rather nice to just have the kid to talk to, selfish as it may seem. 

"I dont want to leave him on his own," Dirk said eventually, looking at Jake who still appeared to be trying to shove his face through the glass partition.

"Well we cant bring him with us."

There was a wicked gleam in Roxy's eye, and both of her best friends caught it before she even said anything. "Can't we?"

"Roxy-"

Before either of them could stop it, she twisted around and pressed her lips to the microphone, grinning widely. Jake seemed to expect the voice this time, but it didn't mean he jumped any less. "Jake, honey! How'd you like to go on a short trip with us? Go explore!"

Perking up visibly, Jake watched her intently, as though she was going to rescind her offer if he looked away. "Ex.. plore?"

"Yeah, babes! I'm sure you know what it is!"

For a second, Jake looked excited, before it devolved back into fear. "Um. Yes."

"Alright! Let's get you out of there!"

Ignoring the protests of her friends, Roxy slammed a button, and a door slid open in Jake's side of the room, leading to their side. He jumped wildly before creeping forward, refusing Roxy's hand when it was offered to him, and choosing to watch them all with narrowed eyes. He was trying to contain his curiosity and fear both, but the latter was manifesting itself in the absence (due to restrainment) of the latter.

Because, try as he might not to be curious and let his guard down, as he crept alongside three new people and left a brand new room to enter brand new rooms, he couldn't deny that this was an adventure of the highest order.

And he was an adventurer, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this didn't play out anything like I wanted, and in my opinion it didnt read very well, but I guess you guys can decide. What did y'all think? Is it alright or should I step up my game next chapter?  
> I hope the Jake parts were alright man


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